The One That Got Away
by escape-into-happiness
Summary: Just my interpretation of the King's Cross scene in 'Nineteen Years Later.'


A/N: I was listening to Katy Perry's 'The One That Got Away' when this idea struck me. This was a new form I was trying out so give this a chance. This is epilogue compliant in every way and I should probably warn there is no happy ending and a distinct lack of dialogue. And I don't own them obviously, or I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction about them. Anyway, let me know if you enjoy it. Have a nice day. :)

The station was bustling with activity like every year. Sixth and seventh years were eager to get rid of their accompanying families and were looking around for their friends. The younger students were being made to endure tearful goodbyes, looking embarrassed and worried that their friends had seen them shed a tear or two. The first-years were easy to spot. Not only because they looked so tiny amongst everyone else, the looks on their faces gave them away. The muggleborns were looking with awe at everything and even the ones raised in the wizarding world could not keep the excitement away from their eyes. There was so much to take in. The scarlet engine bellowed steam like a giant dragon ready to take flight.

Among the hustle and bustle of activity, there stood a family of three. The father and son had matching blond hair, leaving no doubt even to people standing far away as to the identity of the family. The Malfoys were a very well-known and influential family of the wizarding world, thanks to the efforts of one Draco Malfoy. After their name was left in tatters because of the war, Draco worked hard and the Malfoys were once again respected, although for completely different reasons.

Draco stood on the platform, a stiff figure, not talking to anyone nearby and only nodding when his son asked anything. Anyone looking couldn't have figured out what was going on in his head. They would only see a proud father, with his son. They would only see the proud chin and haughty eyebrows.

Draco sighed inwardly. He knew that when people looked at him, no one would see the broken man inside. No one would see that even after fixing everything in his family, he could not fix himself; could not fix his broken heart. He shook his head to get rid of these thoughts. This was his life now. This was what he had chosen. He had to be strong.

It had to be some twisted hand of fate that as soon as he turned his head around and looked right into the eyes of the man who he had been successfully avoiding for the past eighteen years. Harry Potter looked straight at him and slowly blinked. And in that moment Draco realised nothing had changed in eighteen years. He nodded at Harry softly because that was all he knew how to do. Harry nodded back and turned to talk to his wife and children. Harry looked happy around his children- laughing and occasionally ruffling their hair. Draco held back the strange sting in his eyes as he realised he always knew Harry would make a good father. It practically screamed out of the man. The thought made him smile a little, despite the tightness in his chest.

Draco saw Harry smile at Ginny and his heart clenched. That smile, dammit. That smile that once made Draco forget all his worries and problems- made him forget that he was Death Eater scum while Harry was the saviour, made him forget that anything could be more important than making Harry smile like that. It all happened nineteen years ago and Draco still remembered every little detail. He remembered the way Harry bit his lower lip just before turning his head up and leaning in for a kiss. He remembered the way Harry talked non-stop and incessantly like they were always in a hurry and he had too much to say (although he did not talk about important things, never about important things). Draco remembered the carefree way Harry laughed when Draco acted all 'posh'. He remembered the sounds Harry made when Draco touched him, the way his skin felt under fingertips and the way his throat felt under lips. He remembered the frown upon Harry's face when Draco talked about how they would never work out.

It had started out as anger, pain and a lash out against everything that went wrong after the war (who was he kidding, everything was wrong long before the war had even started). Draco had not been able to deal with the effects of the war, nothing was the same anymore and no one bothered to ask Draco how he was. No one bothered to remember that he was just a young teenage boy. No one except Harry bloody Potter, who was being treated as the best thing since cheering charms, noticed Draco and asked him how he was. That simple gesture was too much for Draco, and he lashed out. He punched him across the face and Harry hit him back. The pain felt good so they kept fighting; hitting every part of their bodies they could reach, touching every part of their bodies they could find. Soon, they were kissing fervently and even now, nineteen years after he had first kissed Harry, Draco had no idea how they ended up there. That summer was the best Draco ever had. Harry would sneak Draco into Grimmauld Place every night because they did not want anyone to find out; Draco did not want anyone to find out. Those nights, they spent together tangled up on the sheets with his head on Harry's chest and Harry holding him close; not saying anything, never saying anything. Of course, now he realises what a fool he was. He should have told Harry how much he loved him, should have told him how much he meant every day, because it would never be enough. Draco also remembers their fights. It was the only when they were both angry that the words would come flowing- angry, hateful, mad. Their fights were always passionate and the make-up sex even more so.

Draco had to leave. He knew, even now, that if he were somehow given a chance to relive his life, he would do the same. Not because he didn't love Harry (because he did, dammit, why didn't he understand that) but because he had to take care of his family. He could not risk any blemish to his family name (sometimes he really hated his father for imbibing such ideas in him) and family always came first. That was what he told Harry when asked 'why?' the only question Harry ever asked of him. And so Draco left because he did not want to change his mind, did not want to realise that he had lied. Because Harry came first; he always did.

And that was that. He had never heard from or seen Harry ever since. At first, he was angry. Mad because Harry wouldn't even fight for him. But then, he told himself that it was better that way. He would move on and forget. He did everything to move on, everything that was expected of him. But he could never forget. He would never forget.

Draco was brought back from his thoughts just as the Hogwarts Express moved out of the station. Draco caught Harry's eyes again, just as Harry turned away. His eyes seemed bright, like maybe he was crying a little bit and the stare unsettled him. It lacked the intensity and power it had all those years ago. The lights that always seemed to be burning behind his eyes seemed to have been lost long ago. Harry was looking away, biting his bottom lip and it took everything that Draco had to not throw caution to the winds and kiss a married man. But the eyes stopped him. The eyes told him the one thing he had been running away from all these years, 'You broke my heart, Draco.'

Draco looked down, averting his gaze. 'I broke my heart too.', he whispered softly to himself, just as the train gave one last whistle before disappearing from sight.


End file.
